


Extra Careful

by AJuicyContradiction



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Drugs, Injury, John is not pleased, M/M, Now John is upset, Sherlock is a bit reckless, Sherlock why did you do the thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:35:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJuicyContradiction/pseuds/AJuicyContradiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When I’m at work and you’re on a case, I do not say ‘be careful’ for fun. It may sound like a friendly suggestion for you to ignore on a whim, but I’m telling you now that it’s not.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra Careful

`Sherlock shifted in a seemingly useless attempt to find a comfortable position in the cab. His arm was set, rather awkwardly, in a blue sling that rustled noisily whenever it shifted against his coat. He knew it was meant to secure his recently dislocated shoulder, but it did little to ease the pain and was honestly more a hindrance than anything. Of course it wasn’t the only injury he sustained, a blow to the head resulted in several butterfly bandages along his hairline and the consequent concussion blurred his thoughts- fuzzing the end of the case and the reason that John was so fixated on not meeting his gaze.

`The case had been an intriguing one. It started with four overdoses in university students, connected of course by their dealer. After some testing on the drug of choice he discovered that the cocaine, pure at first glance, was cut with a variety of unsavory mixtures- ones that could only be intentional. The nature of the case and specifically the drug of choice had made the case sensitive from the beginning. He’d taken it after some consideration- he knew he was a recovering addict and he didn’t want to put himself in the way of any temptation more than John, Lestrade or, god forbid, Mycroft wanted him to be tempted. But he was enticed by multiple murders interesting chemical mixtures and, as he later discovered, a rather expertly designed drug ring.

“Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this,” John had asked, following him around the flat, “you don’t have to, we can find you another case. It would be alright-“

“No,” he’d snapped “I do have some element of self-control,” he ignored the worrying glance. He had relapsed, in a minor capacity, during his time away, but that was nearly a year ago and John had not been there. The rest of his response was softer, “The nature of the case will not affect my judgment. I need a case and I’m taking it.”

“Alright,” John conceded, “I just think we should be extra careful with this one.”

`

`And he had been, or he had been as careful as he could. It took him weeks to discover the identity of the leader, a 19 year old Oxford undergraduate who was in need of tuition money. The lethal mixture introduced for clients whom she thought were likely to out her. She was brilliant and even after a thorough looking over he almost dismissed her completely. After determining that she was, in fact, at the top of scheme (a single fingerprint tipped him off) Sherlock caught her walking to class. He expected the resulting chase would end in some altercation, he did not expect the girl to be so competent in what he could only describe as Krav Maga intertwined with some variation of Mixed Martial Arts, leaving him unconscious and her escaped. Regardless, the case was intriguing and he was grateful for it.

John, however, didn’t seem to share his appreciation.

Tension filled the air between them, thick with unvoiced thoughts and lacking the good natured bickering that usually filled the empty space. The post-case euphoria had quickly soured into restless silence. John shifted in his seat, fuming silently, staring out of the window looking at nothing in particular. Sherlock stared at John, contemplating, thinking, planning, re-thinking.  
Finally, he cleared his throat, “I- perhaps I should have waited for Lestrade before-“

“Do you bloody well think so,” John roared. The tension burst. The exclamation was sure to aggravate his partner’s headache further but he couldn’t bring himself to care, it startled the cabbie who jerked the vehicle right, but quickly corrected. Sherlock remained silent, the furious glint that had taken up in John’s eyes had grown to flames. “Jesus, Sherlock, do you really think you should’ve waited for the police before you singlehandedly attempted to apprehend a fucking mob boss, what a novel concept-“

“She was an 19 year old girl and it wasn't the mob-“

“That’s not the point-“ John exclaimed, “you ran off, alone and barely armed-

“John-“

“What if she’d had a gun, or a knife,”

“She was on school grounds, she was studious, I knew she wouldn’t be,” he countered.

“She nearly snapped your neck with her bare hands, you could have-“

“But I wasn’t,” Sherlock argued, voice low and even, “ there’s no point in wasting time on the numerous events that didn’t occur. I could have run into the alley to find it full of pink candy floss and -

“All you had to do was wait five minutes for Lestrade to arrive, why are you always so bloody-“

“John I am sorry,” he interjected. John cut off, in shock mostly, which was completely warranted considering he was just apologized to by Sherlock bloody Holmes; the same Sherlock Holmes whose last actual apology was for coming back from the fucking dead. John took a breath, his fury eased slightly with the knowledge that the detective was at least aware that he had done something wrong, which, like in children, is the first step to correcting the problem.

John took a deep breath, fog raced across the window by his lips, 

“Right, okay, what are you sorry for.” 

Sherlock stared back, his cast rustled against his jacket, and he winced as pain rippled through his right shoulder.

“What are you sorry for, Sherlock,” John pressed, earning a tired if not annoyed glare.

“For not informing you of my plans.”

“And?”

“For upsetting you.” His voice was strained, but genuine.

“And?”

Sherlock replied with a blank glare.

“Sherlock, what else.”

He rolled his eyes, causing another wince, “I cannot apologize for my actions, they-"

The cab pulled to a stop in front of Baker street and John threw open the door leaving Sherlock to pay. He slammed the door behind him, it may have been childish, but he was dealing with a child. If a dramatic display of anger is what clued Sherlock into how upset he was, then he would gladly give his partner the most dramatic display he could muster.

“John, John,” Sherlock called after him, he left the door to the flat open and turned to Sherlock coming up the stairs, albeit a bit slowly.  
“John I am sorry, I should have told you that I was going to intervene.”

“Yeah, almost,” John snapped, prompting the desired response with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock sighed, “I should not have intervened.” 

John gave a terse nod, _well done you fucking genius you_ , thick with sarcasm, hung in the air. He helped his partner shrug off his coat which was draped a bit uselessly over his shoulders. If Sherlock’s injured arm was jostled a bit more than strictly necessary the taller man didn’t mention it.

After a beat, “You could’ve been killed,” he said, quieter, the rage faded into a vague dread and innumerable what if’s- despite their apparent ridiculousness. “I know that what we do is dangerous, but what you did today was reckless, do you understand that?”

Sherlock nodded, his shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked tired- appropriately tired on anyone else- but it looked like death on his gaunt and wiry frame.

“I’m sorry, John.”

John sighed, “Okay, just, tell me, honestly, do you know the difference between necessary action and recklessness.”

“John-“

“Because what you did today was reckless, it was unnecessary, and dangerous and when I’m at work and you’re on a case I do not say ‘please be careful’ for fun. It may sound like a friendly suggestion that you can choose to ignore on a whim, but I’m telling you now that it isn’t.”

“I understand and I am sorry, truly.” Sherlock replied.

John nodded, finally satisfied. After a beat, “You’re an idiot.”

Sherlock’s lips twitched up in a smirk, “I-“

“No, shut up and go lie down.”

“John I-“

“Go.” John watched, carefully, as Sherlock considered his options, after a few moments he turned on his heel and walked to his bedroom. This time he actually listened.

**Author's Note:**

> For Let's Write Sherlock Challenge 1
> 
> After a nearly disastrous case, Sherlock and John share a tense taxi ride back to Baker Street. With emotions running high, they finally arrive back at 221B, and then…


End file.
